Once in a Lifetime
by Flagg1991
Summary: After Lincoln drunkenly confesses his love to Luna, she struggles with her feelings: Does she love him as just a brother...or as something more?
1. There's Gonna Be Some Rockin

Luna Loud dug spending time with her little brother. It didn't happen very often because they had such a big family and getting one-on-one time wasn't easy, but whenever she did get Lincoln all to herself, she was happy. He really was a cool dude.

It was a no-brainer, then, who she was taking with her when she won two tickets to see AC/DC in Detroit. When she brought it up, he seemed pretty stoked, and in the two weeks leading up to it, she introduced him to AC/DC's back catalog. "Here, bro," she would say as they sat together on her bed, "you gotta hear this song." He liked _Highway to Hell_ and _Back in Black_ the most, which was cool, because those were her two favorite AC/DC albums too.

The concert was on a Saturday night. They left the house at five in the afternoon on a Greyhound headed south. Lincoln was wearing a black T shirt with a cannon on the front and the band's name underneath. She picked it up at the mall for him the previous day and surprised him with it right before they left. "You gotta look the part, man," she said. When he threw his arms around her waist, she nearly fell over. "You're welcome, gee," she laughed.

They arrived at the Convention Center an hour before show time. It was in a decent part of the city: As they waited, they didn't hear a single gunshot or see a single pile of rubble. "Are they gonna play _Shoot to Thrill?"_ Lincoln asked excitedly. "I hope they do, I _love_ that song."

"Probably, dude, it's one of their big ones." She slipped her arm around his shoulder, drew him close, and gave him a playful noogie. She was happy. She was going to see AC/DC (even if it _was_ with Axl Rose, who was a good singer but kind of a douche), and she was going to do it with her righteous little bro. The only thing that would make the night better would be some grass, but she consciously decided not to get messed up: She had to be responsible. For Lincoln.

Their seats were halfway to the nosebleed section, but that was okay. They had a clear view of the stage and AC/DC played loud. The band took the stage at half past eight, and the crowd went nuts. Luna was kind of impressed by how good Axl sounded. He was no Brian Johnson, but, eh, he did well enough. Lincoln watched the show with wonder in his eyes.

About a quarter way through the set, Lincoln opened a bottle full of clear liquid and took a drink. "What's that?" Luna asked.

"Juice," he said, "it's pretty good. The guy next to me gave it to me." He looked at the empty seat beside him. "I guess he left. You want some?"

"Not now, but thanks."

The band closed the show with _Shoot to Thrill_. "There you go, dude," Luna said, and glanced at her brother, "you're..."

The words died on her lips. Lincoln was slouched in his chair, his head swaying in a circular motion. His face was pale and sheened with sweat. "You alright?" she worried.

He held up a thumb. "This good juice," he said thickly, and lifted the bottle to his lips. Luna's stomach twisted and she snatched it out of his hand. "Hey!" he slurred. "That's mine."

She sniffed it, then took a nip.

It wasn't juice. It was Smirnoff Ice.

Luna's heart dropped.

Some fucking dick hole gave her brother a plastic bottle filled with booze, now he was sloshed.

Aw, man, this is _bad_.

She leaned over and felt his forehead. "I'm _fine,"_ he said, pushing her hand away. Before she could stop him, he stood up on his seat. "Shoot to thrill, baby!" he slurred, and started shaking his hips. He lost his balance and pitched forward, but Luna jumped up and caught him.

"Whoa, dude! Take it easy!"

Shit, shit, shit. Mom was going to _freak_. And Lincoln...poor guy. Misery washed through Luna, and hot tears sprang to her eyes. "Come on, bro," she said, "let's start heading out."

"But Shoot to Thrill is on!" he said. He pulled away from her and stumbled back, bumping into a support column. He turned and looked at it. "Hey, baby! Come to Lincoln!" he threw his arms around it and kissed it passionately.

Man, he's really fucked up, Luna thought, and could have kicked herself. She went over to him and pulled him away. "Uh...let's go find some real chicks, okay?"

"Sure! Fine! I like chicks!"

Luna wrapped her arm around his shoulder and led him into the lobby. He pulled away from her at the bathroom. "I gotta piss," he said.

"Alright." She stood by the entrance with her back against the wall and her arms crossed, her stomach gnawing with worry. She listened out for him but didn't hear anything. After close to ten minutes, she poked her head in. "Linc?"

She gasped when she saw him bending over one of the urinals and ralphing. She rushed over, not caring that she shouldn't be in the men's room, and knelt. "You okay, dude?" she asked, rubbing his back.

He looked up at her with a boozy smile. "I just feel a little sick is all," he slurred. "You know?"

"Yeah, man, I been there before." She helped him up.

"Let's go back to the show," he said in the lobby.

"Show's over, bro, sorry."

"I knew that," he replied.

On the walk back to the bus station, Lincoln did his best to belt out every AC/DC song he knew, often flubbing the tune and lyrics so badly that Luna couldn't tell which one he was trying for. "For those about to shoot we thrill you, yeaaaaaah!" She couldn't help but laugh at that one.

"I think you got a couple confused, buddy," she said.

"That's Bon Scott, he sang that!"

"He didn't sing either one of those songs."

"Yes he did! Listen to the radio!"

She was hoping the cool night air would sober him up, but by the time they reached the Greyhound station, he seemed to be even drunker. Sitting in the waiting room, he leaned his head against her arm and closed his eyes.

The bus came at 11:30, and she helped him on. Maybe he'd sleep and be fine when they got home. Man, she hoped, or else Mom would kill her.

They sat in the back, Lincoln against the window and Luna on the outside so he wouldn't fall into the aisle. She zipped her purse and wedged it between Lincoln's head and the window. "You get some rest, okay?"

Lincoln nodded, his eyes closed. For a long time he didn't speak, and Luna thought he was asleep. "You're pretty cool," he said.

"Thanks," she said, and lovingly ran her fingers through his hair. "You're pretty cool yourself."

"You remind..." he hiccupped, "you reminded me of my sister Luna."

Luna grinned. "Yeah?"

He nodded, his eyes still closed. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure," she said.

"I...I love her," he said. "I mean, you know...not like a sister."

Luna gaped.

A tiny smile touched his lips. "I love everything about her. She's pretty and down-to-earth and kind and gentle. It's _wrong_ , but I don't care. She's perfect. A girl like her only comes around once in a lifetime." He snuggled against the purse. "Don't tell her, though. She'll think I'm a pervert and hate me and I don't want that. It would kill me."

In moments, he was asleep, snoring loudly.

Next to him, Luna stared at the back of the seat in front of her, her cheeks blushing crazily and a big smile on her face. She ran his words through her head a thousand times on the trip back to Royal Woods, her heartbeat increasing on each pass until it slammed against her ribcage.

 _She's pretty and down-to-earth and kind and gentle. It's wrong, but I don't care. She's perfect. A girl like her only comes around once in a lifetime._

Did he...really feel that way, or was it just the booze talking? She looked at him as though she could find the answer on his face, but she saw only cute freckles. If he _did_ feel that way... She looked away and restlessly crossed her arms. A thousand thoughts swirled through her head. He was drunk, he was mistaken, he didn't know what he was saying, and if he did, well, he was just starting puberty, and puberty is a confusing period. He was beginning to notice girls and he was full of hormones...it _had_ to be hard living with a bunch of attractive older sisters.

What if he _was_ serious?

Luna didn't know. She was just as confused as he was.


	2. You Ain't Got A Hold On Me

Lincoln Loud groaned. His head hurt, his mouth was dry, and he felt like he was going to puke. He tried to open his eyes, but they were gummed shut. He tried to sit, but his head spun, and he flopped back against the pillow. What happened? He tried to remember the previous night, but nothing came. Did he get beat up?

He ran the tip of his tongue along his cracked bottom lip and forced his eyes open: Warm morning sunshine fell through the window, stinging when it touched his tired orbs. He rolled onto his side, and started when he was met with a face.

Luna. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. She was dressed in her clothes from the night before, her jacket spread across her legs like a blanket. Her hands were folded between her cheek and the pillow; she looked like an angel.

Lincoln licked his lips. His heart was starting to pound the way it always did when he was around Luna. He tried to shove the rush of emotions away, but they came regardless, and he had to fight the urge to reach out and touch her face.

Her soft, brown eyes fluttered open, and his breath caught. She smiled and stirred. "Hey, bro, how you feeling?"

"Uh...not so hot. What happened? What are you doing here?"

Her smile widened. "You got shitfaced last night."

Lincoln blinked. "I what?"

"You got drunk as a skunk." She stretched. "Someone gave you juice but it wasn't juice."

Wow...so _this_ is what being drunk is like? Feeling sick and achy and not remembering what you did the night before? He didn't see the appeal.

"I crashed in here to make sure you were okay. I mean...we _were_ just at an AC/DC concert, and you know how Bon Scott died."

Bon Scott, AC/DC's original lead singer, got drunk one night and passed out in the back seat of a friend's car. The friend left him overnight, and when he returned in the morning, Bon was dead...choked to death on his own vomit. Lincoln shuddered.

Luna sat up and looked down at him with a lazy smile. When she reached out and laid her warm palm on his cheek, Lincoln tensed. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. She ran her fingers through his hair. "You want something to drink?" she asked tenderly.

"Y-Yes, please."

"Alright." She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she got up and left. When she was gone, Lincoln let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, guilt washing through him like dirty water. He knew it was wrong, but he was hopelessly in love with Luna, and had been for as long as he could remember. It's not uncommon, he had read, for a very young child to be 'in love' with a parent or a sibling, since children don't understand the difference between familial love and romantic love. When Lincoln was little, he loved Luna. When he was older, he loved Luna. Today, he loved Luna. He had always loved Luna, and he always would.

And it made him feel so dirty, because being in love with your sister is wrong, and every day that he didn't tell her, every day that he pretended just to be her brother and nothing more, was a lie. Their entire relationship was a lie. She had no idea how he _really_ felt...all she saw was the lie, all she _knew_ was the lie.

He would tell her...but what if she hated him for it? She didn't have to love him back...a part of him fully believed that she wouldn't...and he could deal with that, he _thought_. He could _not_ deal with her hating him, or being distant, or awkward.

Momentarily, Luna returned with a glass of water and a couple aspirin. "Here," she said, handing them to him.

"Thanks," he replied. He tossed the pills into his mouth and then chased them with a big gulp. Luna watched him worriedly.

"Linc?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you... _not_ tell anyone what happened?"

He chuckled. "Luna... _I_ don't even remember what happened." Her eyes were anxious, and he offered her a smile. "I won't say anything."

"Thanks, bro."

"Did I have fun at least?"

A fond grin parted her lips. "I think so. You got up on your seat and started dancing."

"Oh, God," Lincoln groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He made a complete fool of himself...in front of the girl he loved. Smooth move, Ex-Lax. "I didn't piss myself, did I?"

"No, but you threw up in a urinal."

Lincoln bowed his head, his cheeks turning hot and red. Luna sensed his distress, and sat. "It was kind of fun," she said. She reached out to touch his arm, but thought better of it and drew her hand back. "On the walk back to the bus station you were singing AC/DC songs and fucking all the lyrics up." She surprised herself by giggling at the memory. Lincoln looked up at her, and she covered her hand with her mouth; she tried to stop but couldn't. _What's wrong with me?_

He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, man, it's fine."

"No," he said, "I sound like I made an ass of myself and was probably a pain in the neck."

"You were fine...really." She reached out, stopped herself, then said screw it and patted his arm. Lincoln noticed her hesitation. She looked away. "Breakfast is almost ready if you're hungry."

The thought of food turned Lincoln's stomach.

Luna nodded. "Alright. I'll, uh, see you later then."

She got up and hurried out of the room.

Why was she acting so weird?

* * *

Luna Loud sat alone in her room, her guitar lying across her lap and a book of rock tabs open on the bed next to her: It was open to Shoot to Thrill. She chose it at random, and not because it was Lincoln's favorite song...or so she told herself.

She had been sitting there for nearly two hours. She would pluck the strings then lose track of what she was doing and woolgather. Her thoughts centered mainly on Lincoln and his confession of the previous night. When they got home and she helped him to bed, she stretched out next to him and stayed awake long into the small hours of the morning, trying to identify and name the conflicting emotions in her heart. She loved her brother, she really did – that hadn't changed and never would – but she wasn't _in_ love with him. God, he was her brother! She watched him sleep, his face bathed in the silvery light of the moon, and her heart skipped a beat. She raked a hand through her hair and rolled onto her back with a sigh. No boy had ever said something like that to her, and she couldn't lie: It flattered her. It even made her a little...tingly in her stomach.

Should she...talk to him? Sound him out and see if he was telling the truth? Probably not; she really didn't want him to know she knew. _She'll think I'm a pervert and hate me and I don't want that. It would kill me._ Sudden tears sprang to her eyes. _Nah, man, I wouldn't hate you...I'd think you were confused, that's all. Seeing and being around pretty girls and feeling...something for them is normal, even if they are your sisters...just like it's normal to feel tingly after being told you're beautiful and perfect by a boy, even if he is your brother._

Right?

Of course. His feelings were misplaced, that's all. He thought he was in love with her when he really wasn't, he was just...I dunno...coming into his own as a boy. He liked girls and he was always around his sisters, so it would make sense that he would kind of think he liked one of them.

As for her...being told you're perfect by a boy is bound to make you feel something, especially when that boy is as sweet, kind, caring, intelligent, sensitive, giving, considerate, and handsome as Lincoln.

She blinked. Handsome?

Well...sure. Nothing wrong with thinking you're brother's handsome, is there? She thought Leni was pretty, so what? It didn't mean anything. And Lincoln _was_...well...perfect. He was everything she herself would want in a guy. Everything except his DNA...since it was the same as hers...

She needed to take a walk or something to clear her head. She got up and went out into the hall, her eyes instantly flicking to Lincoln's door. It was closed. Maybe she should check on him before she left...just to make sure he was okay. She started toward his room, but stopped herself. That probably wasn't the best idea in the world right now. Instead, she sighed and went downstairs. Lori and Leni were sitting on the couch in front of the TV. Lynn ran in backwards from the kitchen and pretended to catch a ball. Her feet tangled and, with wide eyes, she went down.

"And she wonders why her team keeps losing," Lori sighed without looking up from her phone.

"Hey, screw you," Lynn said, jumping to her feet. "I'm not the reason we keep losing. I'm the best player that team has."

"If that helps you sleep at night."

Lynn flashed Lori a middle finger and stormed out of the room in a huff.

Outside, the day was warm and sunny; the sky was clear and birds sang happily from full, green treetops. Luna took a deep breath that smelled like flowers and earth, and let it out slowly. Where should she go? The park? The river?

 _No particular place to go,_ she thought as she set off.

Just away from the thoughts...and the feelings they might create.

* * *

After making an appearance downstairs so no one would worry, Lincoln went back upstairs and stretched out on his bed. He still felt sick and headachy; he was hoping to fall back asleep for an hour or so, but his mind raced and his chest throbbed. He was thinking of Luna, naturally, more specifically, her face when he woke up that morning. There was something immensely satisfying about waking up next to the woman he loved. He ached with loss because she didn't love him back and probably never would, but the memory of her sunlit face, her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted, made him smile nonetheless.

He should really do something to get her off his mind, because if he kept thinking of her, he was going to wind up not being able to think of anything else, and he would go through a rollercoaster of emotions: Happiness, sadness, joy, sorrow. Maybe he'd call Clyde and they could ride bikes or something. Or maybe Lucy needed help with a poem. _Hey, Lincoln, what rhymes with "Cold, dead, black heart?"_

He smiled at the thought. That Lucy...she was a character, alright. Just like Luna.

Ugh.

You're not supposed to be thinking about her, remember?

Right. Think about something else.

Like the fact you missed that AC/DC concert.

Yeah, that kind of made him mad. He was really looking forward to it. Did they play Shoot to Thrill? He bet they did...probably the best version ever...and he missed it because someone gave him juice that wasn't juice at all. Who does that? _Here, kid, here's some booze._ You'd have to be pretty sick to get off on getting little kids drunk and making them miss Shoot to Thrill. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to call up a memory of the night before – any memory – and, after some figurative straining and grunting, one came: Him falling off his seat and Luna catching him in her arms, her eyes wide with fear. _Whoa, dude, take it easy!_ He smiled at the memory of being in her arms.

Aaaaaaand we're back to Luna. Perfect.

 _No other place I'd rather be_.

Tears came to his eyes and he blotted them away with the heels of his palms. This was his every day: Thinking about Luna, trying to think about something else, and then linking it back to Luna like some sick game of Three Degrees of Kevin Bacon. _Hey, that cat's name is Prince, like the singer. Prince wore purple. Like Luna. Wow, this new fabric softener made my undies_ really _soft. Like Luna's eyes._ Is this what hell felt like? Aching desperately for something you could never have? It _had_ to be, and if it was...this was his hell. No need to die, buddy; you're already there.

He drew a cumbersome breath and let it out in a rush. _She'd hate me if I told her...but I don't think I can go on like this...every day I die a little more...every day I see her face and hear her voice and it takes everything I have to pretend that I don't want to kiss her and hold her hand...and everything I have is getting less and less all the time._ He laced his fingers behind his head and stared up at a golden shaft of sunshine streaming across the ceiling. He couldn't lose her, and if he told her how he felt, he might...he just might...and how could he survive after losing her? If he died a little bit every day now, he'd die all at once if he lost her, and he'd be dead for the rest of his life...dead in heart and soul...until one day he died in body, too. That thought scared him. He didn't want to die inside...slowly _or_ quickly. He wanted to live...and to love...and to walk in the sun...with Luna by his side.

Like the song says, though, you can't always get what you want, and sometimes you have to not worry about what you want and worry about what's _best_. What he wanted was Luna to be his girlfriend...but what was best...

He didn't know...he just didn't know. He was so confused he could barely tell which way was up. He loved Luna as both a sister _and_ something more...he wanted her heart and her hand...but he needed her _period_. He needed her light and her warmth and her love – in whatever form it came – he needed her as a friend and a mentor and...

And he _needed_ her as a lover.

He sat up and ran his hand across his forehead. Had anyone seen him, they would have seen into the mouth of dejection.: The corners of his mouth were turned down in a frown, his eyes were misty, and his face was a sallow shade of misery. He hugged himself and sighed deeply. What should he do? Tell her? Not tell her? She was his sister...would she _really_ hate him? And not only that...she was Luna, the most easygoing person in the whole world. She was unflappable.

Your little brother professing his love for you is enough to flap anyone, though, even his Luna.

That's a really heavy burden, knowing that your brother is hopelessly in love with you...knowing that every time you step out of your room he might be there...his shoulders slumped in defeat because you don't love him back, and it would kill you because you love him but not in that way...he couldn't do that to her.

That's if she _didn't_ hate him and think he was a pervert. Her hating him was the best case scenario, because at least then her heart wouldn't be ripped to shreds every single day the way his was.

Maybe...

A knock sounded at the door, and he jumped. "W - ?"

The door opened and Luan popped her head in. "Hey, Linc can I – whoa, you okay? You look like shit." Her brows knitted with concern.

Ugh. He did _not_ feel like socializing right now. "I'm fine," he moaned.

"You sure?" she asked, softening her tone. Before he could reply, she slipped into the room, shut the door, and came over to the bed. She sat and laid a worried hand on his knee. "If you need to talk, I'm here for you, Linc. Just say the word."

The earnestness in her voice and the tenderness in her eyes broke him, and he drew a watery breath. "I have a problem...and I need your help as a sister."

"Anything," she vowed.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. How much should he tell her? Certainly not all of it. He didn't feel the same way about Luan that he did Luna, but he did love her as a sister, and the thought of her hating him and thinking he was a pervert bothered him only marginally less than the thought of Luna hating him and thinking he was a pervert did.

"I...there's this girl I like..."

He half-expected her to smile or laugh or something, anything, instead she simply watched him. Then nodded for him to continue. "Well...she's older, and we're pretty, you know, cool with one another. I wanna tell her that I like her but I'm afraid she won't like me back and our friendship will suffer."

She waited a moment, then nodded slowly. "That's a tough one. If she doesn't like you back, it might change things between you...but let me ask you this: How _much_ do you like her?"

"A lot."

"Do you find yourself thinking about her constantly?"

He couldn't meet her eyes as he nodded.

"Does every thought you have wind up going back to her?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"And does your tummy always feel kind of...achy?"

"Every waking moment. You've been here before, haven't you?"

Luna squeezed his knee. "Yes, I have."

He looked up at her. "And what did you do?"

Her eyes flicked down. "Nothing."

"Why?" he asked.

Luan sighed. "I don't know if you've noticed, Linc, but I'm ugly and I have a sense of humor that few people get. Maybe if it was one or the other, I'd be okay, but I have two strikes against me and who would want me?"

Lincoln gaped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're not ugly! And your sense of humor is great. It's..." he trailed off and tried to find the right word. "Charming. You're great."

She smiled warmly. "Thanks, Linc. I just...I don't have a lot of confidence in myself when it comes to boys, but I'll tell you what: The boy I liked...he moved away, and I regret not telling him how I felt every single day. We wouldn't _be_ together, but...some things you have to get off your chest no matter what."

He let her words sink in, turning them over and over in his mind. He looked into her eyes and did indeed see a flicker of what might have been regret. "You're an amazing guy and she's luckier than she'll ever know that you like her. I say go for it."

"What if...what if she doesn't and our relationship changes?"

"Is she worth it?"

Lincoln blinked. "Worth it?"

"Is having her as your girlfriend worth it to you?"

"I'd do _anything_ to be her boyfriend," Lincoln blurted.

Luan nodded. "Then she's worth it."

Lincoln called up a vision of Luna's face, her smile bright and her eyes warm, and he grinned. Was the possibility of having her worth the possibility of losing her, though? Part of him said that it was, but another part said that it wasn't, and right now, neither was winning out. He sorely wished he could tell Luan the truth...then maybe she could _really_ help him.

Or sneer at him in disgust and storm off.

 _I'd do anything to be her boyfriend._

Was that the truth?

Yes, he thought, it was. He wanted her so badly it ached, but...

Sigh.

There was _always_ a but. More buts than a Sir Mix-A-Lot video.

He had a lot to think about; if nothing else, Luan had at least helped him get his thoughts in order, and for that he was grateful.

"You good now?" she asked.

"Yeah," he smiled, "I'm good. Thank you for listening."

"Any time," she said, and drew him into a hug, "that's what big sisters are for."


	3. Ruff Stuff

It was a beautiful day in the park. The sun was out, a warm, fragrant wind blew, butterflies danced over green grass...so why did Luna feel...ugh?

She was sitting on a bench facing the playground. Children climbed, swung, ran, and squealed with delight; their carefree happiness starkly contrasted with Luna's restless anxiety. She crossed and recrossed her legs, rested her chin in her palm, folded her arms, she even laid down at one point, her knees drawn up and her head dangling over the side. No position brought her comfort, and no amount of people watching or eavesdropping on nearby conversations ('Chad's such a douche! He took me to Red Lobster for a first date...can you believe it?'...what's wrong with Red Lobster?) could get her mind entirely off of Lincoln. His words skipped through her head like a broken record, and she caught herself grinning more than once...or...tence? More than ten times. She wasn't in love with him (!), but she could totally see herself with a guy like him. And any girl who _did_ wind up with him...man, she was lucky.

What was up with Ronnie Anne and all those other dumb little girls he went to school with? Didn't they see how fucking amazing he was? Why wasn't he drowning in chicks? Are girls that age really _that_ stupid? Yeah, and girls her age weren't any better. Poor Lincoln, he was a nice guy and you know what they say about nice guys. Girls, from what she'd seen, slutted around until their wild oats were sown and their pussies were worn out and their looks were beginning to fade, then they looked for a guy like Lincoln to "settle down" with. Man, fuck that! Lincoln deserved better than some loose fucking ho-bag party girl slut.

She inhaled deeply through her nose and rubbed her palms on her knees. She didn't get mad often, but right now, thinking of the way girls do nice guys...it was really fucked up. How come we have to pervert everything that's beautiful? What's wrong with the human race? Why do we have to take the most precious things in the world and treat them like garbage, and then treat garbage like its precious? We cut down trees, dump sludge in the ocean, block out the sun and the stars with skyscrapers, and laugh at good, caring, compassionate people while acting like Billy Badass with his neck tats, criminal record, and heroin addiction is just the coolest shit ever. Then you have Kim Kardashian's big, fake, fat fucking ass and swollen collagen lips on the cover of beauty magazines and good, totally rockin' girls – like Luan – thought they were ugly and tried to fix what wasn't even broken with surgeries they didn't need offered by celebrity doctors who made millions they didn't deserve and lived in mansions they shouldn't have.

Sometimes the world really pissed Luna off. You know what, let Kim-Jong Un launch a missile. Let _everyone_ launch their missiles. Human beings had their chance and they failed miserably...let the cockroaches have the earth. She bet they'd do a better job anyway.

With a sullen sigh, she crossed her arms and stared past the playground, past the trees beyond, past the rim of the earth and into space. Nope. Life was not fair. She'd go for a guy like Lincoln; those bimbos could have their bad boys and wind up a single mother at thirty. She'd go for Lincoln in a heartbeat.

Hey...wasn't she supposed to be clearing her head? If so, she was failing, because she was more troubled than she was before.

 _That_ didn't work.

So much for a walk in the park. Right now all she felt like doing was dragging herself home and crawling under the covers.

 _I love everything about her. She's pretty and down-to-earth and kind and gentle. It's wrong, but I don't care. She's perfect. A girl like her only comes around once in a lifetime_.

She smiled and ducked her head, her hand fluttering to her ear. Was she really all of those things? Pretty? She didn't think so, but apparently he did.

 _That was really sweet, bro. You made my day. Hell, you made my_ life.

Unless it was just the booze...

Luna frowned. You know, every time that thought crossed her mind, she felt bitter disappointment.

Because he didn't really think she was all of those things?

Well, yeah, sure, but...she didn't know...it felt deeper than that. Gah! Why do things have to be so complicated?

She hoped he was being serious. She wanted him to think she was pretty and easygoing and kind and all that stuff, because those were all the things he was, and, you know what...she learned all of that from him.

Their family was so much better off for having him. He was the glue that held them together, the shining lamp in their darkness, their savior, the beautiful distillation of all that was good in them refined to its purest form. She sighed through a smile. He was great. He really was. She was lucky to have him.

Did he have any idea how special he was? Did he have even the slightest inkling how priceless he was? Probably not. In the chaos of daily life, stopping to tell him how radical he was kind of fell by the wayside. And sometimes...sometimes he got the short end of the stick. It's impossible not to get run over when you have ten siblings all with their own agendas...hell, during that epic Mad Max battle over the sweet spot that one time, she caught a fist to the face and had a black eye for a week...she _still_ didn't know who threw it, not that it mattered. There were other times she got shit shoveled in her face...it happened to them all. Lincoln seemed to catch the worst of it, though. Poor guy. With all that going on...he probably didn't know that he meant the world to her...and to his other sisters.

They needed to start showing him their love more often. They didn't have to slurp his cheek every time they passed him or worship the ground he walked on. They just had to take the time here and there to let him know they appreciated him, and that he wasn't the family whipping boy or outsider or what the hell ever. You know...a quick pat on the shoulder and 'Hey, bro, I appreciate you.' That's all. It's really the small things that make the most difference, and they didn't really take time for the small things. Sure, they hugged and played together and all that jazz, but those small little moments, tiny displays of affection without having a larger context...those didn't happen a lot. They probably didn't happen in many households. You get caught up in life, you got your own things going on, your own worries and your own stress and you forget to be affectionate to your spouse or your kids or your righteous little brother.

Well...from here on out, she wasn't going to forget. She was going to be affectionate to him all the time. He deserved it. He deserved to know always that he was loved and wanted and appreciated. Inexplicable tears flooded her eyes as she vowed to never let her beautiful, caring, handsome, sweet, intelligent, attractive, compassionate, charming little brother _ever_ feelanything but loved.

In fact, she thought as she stood, she was going to go home and start right now.

As she left the park, she was smiling, really, truly, consistently _smiling_ , for the first time in nearly an hour. The pressure in her chest evaporated, but her stomach still felt all fluttery, like there were a thousand butterflies in it. She didn't eat breakfast, so that's where _that_ was coming from.

Totally.

Had to be.

What _else_ could be making her feel that way?

 _I love everything about her. She's pretty and down-to-earth and kind and gentle. It's wrong, but I don't care. She's perfect. A girl like her only comes around once in a lifetime_.

* * *

Sitting on his bed in a warm shaft of sunshine, Lincoln Loud cupped one palm and held it up, then the other. _Is it worth it?_ He lifted one hand and dipped the other. Asking Luna and having her hate him...or at the very least feel awkward around him...not asking Luna and dying inside. With Luan...Lincoln was sure she liked that boy she mentioned, but he didn't think she _loved_ him, at least not with the fierce intensity with which he loved Luna. She probably did have regrets and she probably felt loss...but she managed...Lincoln didn't think _he_ could manage. He would either break and tell Luna, or his heart and soul would decompose like a body in a coffin. If he told her and she took it poorly, he would die inside. If he _didn't_ tell her, he would die inside. Heck, when you look at it that way, why not tell her? Telling her, at least he stood a chance of her saying yes.

But if she took it bad, not only did he have himself to worry about, he had her too. He didn't want her to feel awkward...or guilty...or depressed if she didn't love him back. He cared about her more than anything else in this world – far, far more than he did himself – and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. So that was one in the ZIP YOUR LIP category's favor.

But he _needed_ her. God, he needed her hand and her heart – and her kiss – the way a fish needed water.

How could he be so _selfish?_ This is the girl he loved, he had to be strong!

But he wasn't. He wasn't strong and had never been. He was weak; a weak-willed, white-haired pushover with limp wrists and chicken legs. He got his butt handed to him on a silver platter by girls on an almost daily basis...heck, even Lola was tougher than him.

But this is Luna we're talking about! You _have_ to be strong!

He sighed. He was right...well, _a part_ of him was right, anyway. Luna was the most precious thing in the world, and if he had to die to keep her from getting hurt, so be it. He was willing to crash, burn, rot, fall apart...whatever it took to keep that beautiful smile on her face, and that warm, loving light in her eyes.

 _I love you, Luna,_ he thought, _and I would do anything for you._

Including not telling you how much I love you.

He started to get up, but a knock came at the door, and he settled back down onto the bed. Probably Luan checking up on him. "Yeah?"

The door opened, and Luna popped her head in; Lincoln's heart clutched and anxious claws needled his stomach. She smiled warmly. "Hey, uh, I just wanted to tell you how much I love you, man. You're an awesome brother."

Lincoln's face burned brightly and he struggled to reply, but words wouldn't form on his trembling lips. She looked away, a patch of red spread across her cheek. "T-That's all. I appreciate all you do. You're great." She coughed then shut the door, leaving Lincoln alone with a crashing heart.

Luna...sweet, sweet Luna...you come in here and innocently tell me you love me and that I'm a great brother...at the exact moment I needed to _not_ see your beautiful face. He chuckled sardonically. This isn't going to be easy, is it?

Of course not. Someone upstairs had an eye on him...and that someone liked to torture him.

He buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath. Easy or not, he had to be strong...for Luna. Surely he could dig downdeep and find the strength...and if he couldn't find it, well, he'd just _make_ it. That's what a man does. If he can't find a house, he builds one. If he can't find squirrel or whatever in the grocery store, he went out and shot it himself, and if he can't find the strength to protect the woman he loves, he makes it on the spot.

Lincoln steeled his resolve. Throw whatever you want at me, but I'm not going to cave. I'll keep my mouth shut and smile for her and pretend everything's okay, because I love her more than life itself. I'll die inside, I'll be miserable, I'll be in pain...just so long as Luna can be happy. That's what really matters. Her, not me. I love you, Luna, and I'll do anything for you...I'll do everything for you...because you are the most precious and special thing in my life, and even if I can't have you as a lover...maybe...just maybe...I can manage just having you as a sister.

Could he?

Yes.

He would _have_ to.

A vise tightened over his heart, and he felt like he was going to cry, but he bravely fought back his tears.

For Luna.


	4. Beating Around the Bush

It felt good to have a clearly defined goal; it helps you focus, keeps you in line. Luna had given herself entirely to her mission: She was going to show Lincoln that she loved him. No one _else_ showed him, and while she couldn't bring herself to blame anyone, it was certainly messed up, but whatever, she didn't mind. Lincoln was easy to love. He was impossible _not_ to love. She would show him the love of ten sisters and then some...and then a lot...because he deserved it. She put her eyes on the prize and ignored everything else. His confession...her own confusion...all of that fell away as she steeled her resolve.

It wouldn't be easy, though, because she knew how he felt and it was a little awkward. That's why she blushed and coughed when she poked her head in his room, and that's why her stomach felt all gnarly and stuff. Heh, what else _could_ it be, right?

But you know what? You just gotta power through. It's like...she didn't know...your baby's stuck in a burning building and there're wolves or something in your way. You gonna give up? Fuck no, some bites and maybe a missing finger or two (and a torn open stomach) are worth it because your baby's in a burning building! Lincoln was her baby and she would fight tooth and nail, like a mother, to rescue him from the fires of...not feeling loved or whatever.

After she left his room, she went into hers and dropped onto her bed, ignoring Luan, who was working on her laptop. She grabbed her ax and sat it across her lap. Her mind was distant as her fingers began to pluck the strings. In it swirled a tempest of ideas on how to show her love without suffocating him or making it weird. No one likes being smothered by their older sister...hell, too much love can be just as bad as not enough love, just like too much water can kill you the same as too little. She didn't want to be the opposite of what everyone else was. Hey, Lynn just played me to get her way or something, drats. Hey, Lola beat me up, darn. Hey, Luna just hugged me so tight my spine broke then when I tried to go to the bathroom she was peeking through the keyhole to make sure I was okay. She grinned. Nope, she didn't want to be overbearing. Maybe just...not do it _all_ the time? Yeah, here and there.

Linc was so damn loveable, though.'

She was still plucking the strings, and realized that without meaning too, she was playing a familiar bridge. She knew it, but she couldn't place it. She started to hum, trying to find the words, then they came.

" _I'm like evil, I get under your skin_

 _Just like a bomb that's ready to blow."_

"You must really like that song," Luan said without looking up. "You keep playing it."

"Lincoln likes it," Luna said, and the feeling of her brother's name on her lips made her heartbeat quicken.

"I don't," Luan said. "Play the one about the crabs."

"Oh, you like the one about crabs?"

"It's funny," Luan said, "so of course I like it."

Luna shrugged one shoulder and began to play a different AC/DC song, to which she sang along.

" _But when they start to bite  
_

 _Then it's time you set alight  
_

 _For an appointment  
_

 _Before you start to scream_

 _That's when you apply the cream  
_

 _Blues ointment."_

Luan giggled. "I still can't believe they wrote a song about having crabs."

"Hey, man, rock and roll lifestyle. You bang groupies and wind up with all sorts of weird shit."

Luan ducked her head and giggled again into her hand. "Still...singing a song about it...that's crazy. I'd want to keep that a secret." She whipped her head in Luna's direction, her ponytail flopping against her neck. "Wasn't there another one they did about STDs?"

Plucking the strings again (and unconsciously going back to Shoot to Thrill), Luna nodded. "The Jack. That's what they call the clap in Australia. Or did. I don't know if they do anymore. There are a lot of songs about VD; when you're rich and famous and all the girls wanna screw you regardless, you don't really have to worry."

"Must be nice to not have to worry," Luan said, and Luna detected a hint of envy in her words.

"A lot of it has to do with confidence," Luna said vaguely. "They know they got the stuff and they don't hide it." Luna glanced at her sister then to her own fingers worrying the frets. "They...they realize how great they are." She looked pointedly at Luan, who sensed her gaze and glanced over, her eyes clouded with doubt.

The dynamic in the Loud family was strange, Luna had always thought. The girls loved their brother (even if they didn't always show it) and naturally gravitated to him, largely because he stuck out being the only boy, and because he was such a nice guy he was always willing to help (even if he had to be swayed a little). In a way, each of them was closer to Lincoln than to anyone else, but in another way they were closer to their roommate. Luna had been in the same room as Luan their entire lives (pretty much), and Luna knew Luan unlike any of their other siblings did; she knew all about her self-image issues. Luna wasn't a psychiatrist, and didn't want to be (the human mind is a dark, depressing place sometimes), but she was a little deeper than people maybe gave her credit for, and she honestly believed that Luan's humor was sort of like a mask she hid behind. For her, making people laugh was her way of coping, of seeking, like, attention and validation. Some girls who have low self-esteem slut around because having a man desire them makes them feel better (until he finishes, leaves, and the cycle starts all over again), and some girls tell jokes because having everyone smile and laugh makes them feel the same way...until the laughter passes and the cycle starts all over again. Luan was sensitive about her teeth among other things; Luna didn't think anyone made fun of her anymore (though people probably did here and there, because assholes are a fact of life), but in elementary school she got teased a lot, and it really hurt her. She came home in tears more often than not, and many nights Luna lied awake listening to the sound of her sister hitch as she cried herself to sleep.

Things were better for her now, but she still carried those early taunts close to her heart, and deep down, she took them seriously. She thought she was ugly, she thought she was worthless or some damn thing. Luna didn't know, but it killed her, and sometimes she would see the pain in her sister's beautiful hazel eyes and want so badly to comfort her, but it was a touchy subject that she feared bringing up.

"Great personality," Luna said, picking through the chorus of Shoot to Thrill, "cute...kind...loving...compassionate...considerate..."

For some reason, an image of Lincoln appeared in her mind. He _did_ like Shoot to Thrill.

"...perfect..."

Luan was blushing, her lips sucked in and her eyes sparkling. She turned away and turned back to her screen.

"You're perfect," she said to the girl in the next bed over...and to the boy in the next room over.

"Stop," Luan said through a sunny grin. "I am not."

"Yes, you are," Luna said. "You don't realize it...and you won't believe me...but you are. You're..." here Luna faltered. "You're an amazing girl, Luan, and I really wish you knew that."

Luan grinned. "Thank you," she said.

"Just keep a stiff upper lip, girl," Luna smiled, "you got this."

Luan sighed contentedly. Luna always knew how to make her feel better.

 ** _Shoot to Thrill_ by AC/DC (1980)**

 **Crabsody** _ **in Blue**_ **by AC/DC (1977)**


	5. Play Ball

Lincoln Loud was growing restless. He still felt kind of queasy, but sitting in his room, alone but for his thoughts, was starting to get to him. He tried to read a comic, but couldn't focus, he tried to play a video game, but couldn't concentrate. He gave up and sat on his bed, his arms crossed and his head thrown back, his leg jittering anxiously. He was tired of thinking the same thoughts and feeling the same achy emotions. He really did need to get his mind off of her. It already wasn't going to be easy, tormenting himself would only make it harder.

With a sigh, he slipped off the bed and went out into the hall, his steps not entirely steady. Jeez, and people drink that stuff _on purpose?_ His knees were shaky and his stomach still hurt...and he'd been awake for hours. _When will it end?_

"Yo, Linc _oln!"_

Lynn jumped up and stuck a roundhouse kick, spinning 360 degrees, before landing on her feet, a grin on her face. "Wanna wrestle?"

Lincoln's stomach gurgled sickly. "Uh...I'm not feeling too good, so..."

"What you need is some football," she said, "football always makes _me_ feel better. I'll go grab my ball." She leapt, tucked, and rolled into her room. Lincoln started to protest, but stopped. As long as she didn't tackle him and jostle him around too much (and make him puke), he could probably tolerate a little football. It would certainly get his mind off Luna: A ball flying directly at your face has a pretty good way of clearing your mind of anything not pertaining to avoiding a broken nose.

Lynn leapt across the threshold and landed in the hall on bent knees, a football tucked under her arm. She danced from one foot to the other. "You ready, Linc?"

He was getting tired just watching her. "How do you always have so much energy?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Veggies and protein, my man. You're always eating chips and ketchup sandwiches, no wonder you feel draggy all the time. You need to start eating better."

"Yeah," he said. There was no point in arguing with her. "You wanna do this or nah?"

"Let's go!" She did a somersault, landed at the head of the stairs (her feet dangled over the edge, and Lincoln's heart clutched, but she didn't fall, whew), and bounded down, jumping off the fourth to last and sticking the landing.

Lincoln yawned as he followed. Outside, the day was hot and bright, and Lincoln winced. Someone turn down that big burning thing in the sky, ugh. Lynn leapt over the porch railing and ran over to the fence separating their yard from Mr. Grouse's while Lincoln dragged himself to the opposite end of the yard. He turned, and Lynn waved. "You ready?"

Man, that sun was _really_ hot; he was already starting to sweat. "Yeah!" he called.

"Alright, Linc-o!" she cried, leaping from one foot to the other and back again, "here it comes! Don't drop it! Put your arms up! Remember, bread basket! Keep your eye..."

" _Just throw it!"_

Lynn snapped the ball, and it tore through the air like a bullet, arching up then angling down, spinning right at his face. Though he had been playing football with Lynn for years, and though he was getting better all the time (no busted lips or noses for almost a year!), his heartbeat still quickened every time the ole pigskin screamed at his face.

He threw his arms up and snatched the ball at the last moment, one foot pushing up and leaving the ground. He pulled the ball to his chest and landed on his heel, which sent a jarring vibration into his hip. He didn't fall, though.

"Alright, Linc," Lynn said encouragingly. "Now throw it back!"

Lincoln assumed the super-duper football throwing stance Lynn had shown him (that's not what it was called, but he was a dork) and threw the ball, impressed by how high and fast it was going. He dragged his forearm across his forehead. He'd barely done anything and his entire body was slick with sweat.

Lynn leapt up, caught the ball, and came down, snapping it back instantly. It veered left, and Lincoln ran to catch it, almost fumbling. He drew back and shot it to Lynn, who caught it and flung it back. For a solid five minutes they did this, Lincoln fumbling twice and Lynn fumbling once. Lincoln's heart beat violently against his chest and his stomach clutched, but he tried to ignore it. He _couldn't_ ignore the sweat, though: His underarms were soaked, his chest was damp, and beads trickled down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging them. Jeez, it felt like he was melting.

Lynn threw the ball and he went to grab it, but his stomach clenched and a hot stitch formed in his side. He suddenly felt like he was going to be sick.

The ball brushed his fingers and slammed into the fence behind him. "Heh!" Lynn laughed. "Nice hands, feet!"

Lincoln bent at the waist and tried to catch his breath, his hands clamped over his knees and his stomach roiling. "Hey, Linc, you alright?" Lynn asked worriedly as she came over.

"I'm fine," he huffed, "I just..."

Bile filled his mouth and he hitched, a spray of clear, strange tasting vomit shooting from his mouth. "Shit," Lynn hissed. For a moment she looked stricken, her face paling, then she laid a hand on his shaking back. "You okay?"

Long strands of stomach acid hung from his lips. His chest and throat burned. "I'm f –" Another wave hit him, and he puked again, the world falling away and his legs giving out, dropping him to his knees. Lynn was frozen. Should she get Mom? She couldn't leave him alone, though. She...

"What's wrong?"

Lynn looked up just in time to see Luna rushing over, her eyes filled with worry. "I don't know," Lynn said, "he just started puking."

Ignoring her, Luna shoved her out of the way and knelt next to Lincoln, resting her hand on his back. He wasn't puking anymore. "You okay, bro?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he panted, his heart still racing...now from Luna's closeness in addition to whatever was wrong with him.

"Dude, you're sweating balls," Luna fretted. The alcohol was still leaving his system; she could smell it very faintly on him...hopefully because she knew to smell for it and not because it was particularly strong. He trembled under her hand as he gasped for breath, and he heart broke.

She turned an evil glare on Lynn, who winced and fell back a step. "What are you doing dragging him out here in the hot sun? I told you at breakfast he didn't feel good!"

"I-I..."

"It's not her fault," Lincoln said, getting to his feet. Luna's hand unconsciously ran over his neck, and he stiffened. "I wanted to play, but I guess I just wasn't up to it."

"You gotta be more careful, man," Luna said, caressing his shoulder. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"I'm fine now, I'm fine," Lincoln said, a tremor in his voice. Her thumb stroked the side of his neck, and his flesh tingled excitedly. He pulled away. "I just need something to drink, and to sit down for a few minutes."

"Alright," Luna said. She tightened her grip on his shoulder and steered him toward the house. Lincoln shied away from her.

"I'm fine," he said more sharply than he meant, "you don't need to hold onto me."

She glanced at him, and was that a flicker of hurt in her eyes? "You just scared me is all," she said, then glanced down.

Lincoln knew it wouldn't be easy...and it wasn't. He tried to stop himself, he really did, but he reached out and took her hand anyway. She jerked her head up and looked at him. Her eyes were brown and beautiful, and the smattering of freckles across her cheeks made Lincoln's breath catch. In that moment, he longed to kiss her...to lean forward and brush his lips against hers, to breathe in her exhalations, to touch the tip of her nose with his, to stare deeply into her soul...but he could only force a weak smile. "I'm sorry." _I'm in love with you and if you hold onto me I can't promise I won't do something we'll regret._ "I just feel off."

She smiled. "I get it, bro." Her face darkened. "I'm really sorry you got messed up. I feel like shit for letting that happen." She blinked and looked away. "What kind of sister am I?"

"A great one," he said, and surprised himself by throwing his arms around her waist and hugging her. _Stop! You're not supposed to be doing this!_

Luna tensed, her cheeks burning hot, then a tiny smile crept across her face and she hugged him back.

Lincoln rested his forehead against her soft hip and closed his eyes. His breathing was ragged and her smell filled his nose. "I love you, Luna," he said earnestly, his throat tight and his stomach slick with anxiety. He wasn't professing his love for a sister...he was professing his love for a girl.

"I-I love you too," Luna forced, the words coming hard. Why was telling her little bro she loved him so difficult?

For a moment they held each other, their hearts pounding and their eyes misty, then Lincoln pulled back and Luna looked hurriedly away. "Let's get that water," she stammered.


	6. Up To My Neck In You

**anonymous789: I'm glad** _ **someone**_ **caught on. I decided to use their song titles as chapter titles after the story was written. This is a light, fluffy story and...you know what? AC/DC isn't a light, fluffy band, so finding appropriate song titles to use was a little difficult. I had to stretch on a few of them.**

* * *

Pale gray light streamed through the window, gently caressing a troubled face: Cloudy eyes, pinched forehead, lips arranged in a slight frown. She drew a heavy sigh and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 6:01. Her alarm would go off in twenty-five minutes; at this point falling asleep wasn't going to happen. She dropped her arm over her chest and licked her lips.

The previous day, she vowed to show her brother that she loved him. She vowed to never let him even begin to question the way she felt about him the way he might possibly sometimes question the way his other sisters felt about him. She also vowed not to smother him...it's a delicate balancing act, you know? She had to find the perfect amount of love to show him and stick with it. Throughout the day, she found moments to express her affection. He was sitting at the kitchen table listening to one of Lucy's poems when she came in to get a drink, so she rubbed his head; he was watching some monster truck thing on TV with Lana, and she trailed her hand along his shoulder as she passed, making him jump cutely. "Enjoying the show, bro?" she asked.

"Uh, y-yeah, it's cool."

She came back in a few minutes later and sat next to him. He scooted away, and her heart twinged with disappointment. Why did he do that?

 _Maybe you're suffocating him...already..._

Was she? If so, she wasn't doing it intentionally! Of course, he wasn't used to being showed direct affection at random times by one of his sisters, so maybe it was weirding him out. Maybe she _was_ going overboard.

So she'd stop. At least for the day. Tomorrow she could flick his cowlick and maybe pat him on the back (hours apart), then the next day...then so on and so forth. Sure, no problem. When you got right down to it, it was about quality, not quantity, right? She had nothing but time.

Only...she found herself scooting closer to him and laying her hand on his knee. He jerked his head around, his eyes widening and his face going white. "You feeling okay, bro?" she asked, her cheeks suddenly hot. He glanced down, and she followed his eyes to her hand. She went to pull it away, but it wouldn't budge...she tried again, and her fingers caressed him.

She blushed harder, and yanked her hand back.

"I'm fine," he said quickly and faced the TV again. For a moment, Luna traced his profile with her eyes, the soft curve of his jaw, his chin, his button nose, and when she felt something strange stirring in her chest and her lips stretching into a big, dumb smile, she panicked and looked away. A thought formed, and she tried to stop it from coming, but couldn't: _He's beautiful._

It wasn't an innocent, sisterly thought.

She jumped up and fled to her room, where she shut the door and sat on her bed, happy that Luan wasn't around to see how pale and shaky she was. _What was_ that _about?_ She asked herself as she crossed her arms. Only she knew...kind of. She felt the answer twitching in the back of her head, but shut that shit down like her name was Negan. She told herself she was mistaken...it _was_ a harmless sister-like observation. Remember, Leni's beautiful. And Lola. And all of them, in their own way...including Lincoln. He was beautiful...what of it?

 _That's not what you meant and you know it._

It is, though! He's a handsome guy...was she supposed to pretend that he wasn't because they were related? What kind of stupid, mixed up shit was _that?_ Don't compliment your brother because it might sound weird? If someone had a dirty mind and thought she was a pervert for saying her brother is beautiful, they're the ones with the problem, not her.

She didn't mean anything by it.

She really didn't.

At dinner, though, she couldn't bring herself to look at him. It was her week to wash dishes afterwards, and instead of staying to help her like he usually did, he scurried away as soon as he was excused, and Luna almost felt like crying. _Hormonal...must be about to start my period._ In bed, she tried to sleep, but wound up tossing and turning for hours before dropping off, and then waking again less than three hours later. During her rest, she dreamed of Lincoln's declaration, and she woke up with a smile on her lips...a smile that turned to a frown when her tired mind immediately began to question whether he meant it or not.

Did it matter? In fact, it was probably for the best if he _didn't_ mean it.

She hoped he did, though.

Because...

She sighed and sat up. No. No, no, no, no. She turned off her alarm and got up. In the hall, not a creature stirred, not even a Leni. The bathroom door was shut, however, and she could hear the hiss and gurgle of the shower. That would be Lori, Miss Having-The-First-Shower-Of-The-Day-Is-So-Important-To-Me-That-I-Get-Up-Super-Early-To-Have-It. Luna loved Lori to death, but that girl could be so high-strung sometimes. Lola too. She was practically Lori's Mini Me in that respect. Luna leaned against the wall, crossed her arms, and bowed her head.

 _She's pretty and down-to-earth and kind and gentle. It's wrong, but I don't care. She's perfect. A girl like her only comes around once in a lifetime._

Her heart sped up and she broke out in a smile. Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln, you're a little charmer. You find a girl with her head on her shoulders, and you're going to sweep her _right_ off her feet...she's going to fall so hard she won't be able to stop thinking about you and your words and when she thinks of you, she's going to get all tingly inside and smile like a goofball...

The door opened and Lori came out, a towel wrapped around her head. Luna was so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't hear the shower cut off. "Morning, Luna," Lori said.

"Mornin'," Luna replied, then ducked into the bathroom. It was warm and choked with steam. The mirror was fogged, and Luna couldn't resist drawing on it. She held one finger to the glass and made a lazy, uneven circle with a long upside down U on top. She then made a smile and two eyes...then three freckles on one cheek and three on the other. Happy morning face, she called it, and smiled. It looked kind of like...

She erased it with her palm, stripped out of her shorts and shirt, and climbed into the shower, where she turned the water as hot as she could stand...which wasn't very hot, since she was used to bathing in lukewarm water.

 _Maybe you need to not show Lincoln your love...maybe you should spend some time, like, not around him at all._

Her stomach clutched. Why?

 _Because you're falling in love with him!_

Luna flinched.

There.

It was out in the open, and like a tidal wave, all of the thoughts and emotions she had been struggling with since Saturday night came flooding out. She was falling hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with Lincoln, her own little brother. She was ashamed, and she was scared; scared that he didn't mean what he said about being in love with her, scared of what would happen if he _did_ and they didn't work out, scared of what her parents or her sisters would say if they found out. She was hopeful, because he was so beautiful and kind and down-to-earth, and she would be _so_ happy with him, but she was doubtful that he would want her...or that she should even try. Even if he did love her...that didn't mean they should be together. It would complicate their lives so much...and everyone else's.

Her emotions were a jumbled mass of raw feeling, and now she was crying, pressing her forehead to the slick tiles and heaving with the power of her sobs. She had never felt like this before and that scared her too. Her chest was tight, her stomach was fluttery, she couldn't stop thinking about him even when she wanted to. She was confused and shaky and happy and sad and a thousand other things and it was terrible but beautiful at the same time.

 _Falling in love with the first boy who says he loves you and calls you pretty...you're pathetic._

 _He's the perfect guy, Luna. He's everything you've ever wanted._

And he was. Everything she had ever looked for in a boy was what she saw in Lincoln. Generosity, humility, compassion, kindness, gentleness...and she never found it...some of those traits were missing, or some of them (or all) were present but not in the same quantity. She didn't date...she had never even kissed a boy...because those things were so important to her, the things that reminded her of Lincoln.

 _Why settle for a cheap imitation when you can have the real thing?_

That made her smile wanly through her tears. _I can't...he's my brother._

 _Yeah, okay, there's_ that _, but...oh well._

 _Oh well?_

 _Yeah. Oh well._

She raked her fingers through her hair. Did it bother _her_ that he was her brother? She thought. No, actually, it didn't. Maybe it wasn't normal...maybe there was something wrong with her or she had a skewered worldview or any of a thousand things, but she didn't care...she just didn't. She could see herself holding his hand and kissing his lips and smiling happily as she did it. Maybe one of their sisters would think it was gross if she saw it, but the image in Luna's mind was anything but: It was two people whose heartbeats were the same sharing a pure and happy love. What was wrong with that? Who could find fault in such a true and tender emotion? Generics...gender...those things didn't matter a squat, because love is not something physical, it's spiritual...it transcends the body. Lust might not...infatuation might not...but true love...the fusing of two kindred souls...what did the body have to do with _that?_ What did being related or the same gender or too fat or too skinny or ugly or anything else have to do with _love?_

Nothing. It had fuck all to do with it because you aren't your body. Your body is a shell, a fleshy, meaty prison and deep inside is you – the real you – all of the things that matter, the love and kindness (or the lack thereof). Everything else was superficial.

It did not matter to her that Lincoln was her brother. She was in love with him...God help him, she was in love with him and she didn't want to be anything else.

But the way she felt – and whether she cared or not – didn't change the fact that no one would understand their love. What would happen if Mom and Dad found out about their relationship? For one, they wouldn't be happy, and for second...Luna didn't know. It might be cliché, but therapy? It makes sense, you know, since loving your sibling is so wrong. Would Mom and Dad really do that, though? It didn't seem their style.

Something would happen, let's just leave it at that, and Luna didn't _want_ anything bad to happen to Lincoln. It would be better for him if she kept her feelings to herself.

But could she?

She wondered.

She _had_ to.

And here she was assuming that he would feel the same way. What if he didn't? What if all that stuff he said was just boozy rambling, and what if she freaked him out and hurt their relationship and everything was all awkward between them? Finding out if he meant it was step one, but how would she do that? She couldn't come outright and ask him...could she? _Hey, bro; that night we saw AC/DC you said you love me, was that true? Because I love you too..._

No, she didn't have it in her to be _that_ forward. She was fairly confident and all, but she knew she'd seize up if she tried. She'd have to be sneaky...and being sneaky wasn't something she was very good at.

She had to know, though, even know she knew that if he really meant what he said...she wouldn't be able to stop herself. It might hurt her, it might hurt him, it might hurt everyone and everything...but she would sweep him into her arms and kiss him.

If he wasn't serious? Her heart would probably shatter into a million pieces and she would never be able to put it back together.

If he _was_ serious? The happiness was too great to contemplate. She heard in Sunday School once that if you looked into the face of God, you died (because it's so awesome?). Looking into the future...beyond the point where Lincoln took her hand and said _Yes, Luna, I meant every word_...it was too bright, and if she didn't look away she would die...or turn into a pillar of salt like Lot's wife.

Someone banged on the door, and she jumped, a tiny "Eek" escaping her lips.

"Like, hurry up!" Leni called, "you've been in there _forever!"_

Had she?

Blinking her tears away (or maybe they were already gone and it was just water), Luna finished washing, got out, toweled off, and got dressed.

Of course, when she went out into the hall, Lincoln was there, dressed only in his underwear and looking like something that had crawled its way out of a shallow grave. Luna smiled fondly. He never was a morning person; he was as bad as Luan, who, come to think of it, wasn't in line yet. She probably slept through her alarm again, which meant she would have to wake her.

She turned away from Lincoln, took a deep breath, and went to get her sister's ass out of bed.


	7. Are You Ready?

The ache grew with every passing hour, the pressure rising and becoming sharper, more urgent. He tried to ignore it, but it was like sitting in your living room and trying to ignore the fact that everything was on fire: Your couch, your cat, you, the guy on TV. Luna was his oxygen...he needed her, plain and simple, and that need became more and more powerful all the time. She wouldn't hate him if he told her...Luna was good and pure and nice...she didn't have it in her to hate. And if things became awkward...well, that would pass, right? It couldn't last forever. Luna was loving and forgiving. If he reached above his station, surely she wouldn't have it in her to hate him or stay upset with him. She would forgive him, and he would learn his lesson and from there on they would be brother and sister like before.

It made sense, but he wasn't stupid: He was getting desperate, and when you get desperate, bad ideas don't sound so bad anymore and you start in with the wishful thinking, only you don't recognize it as wishful thinking...you mistake it for logic and then you do something stupid. Lincoln didn't want to do anything stupid, but with drawing horror he realized that he might very well anyway; his mind was clouded with love, and a boy (or a girl) in love is the absolute dumbest creature on the face of the earth...they make Dodos look smart.

Knowing all of this didn't help, because knowing and feeling are two totally different functions that often work hand-in-hand, but sometimes _don't._ He was reminded of that old movie _Final Destination_ that he saw on TV with Lucy, where this guy has a psychic premonition of a plane crashing, and all he can do is stand helplessly by as it blows into a million little pieces. _My life is that plane,_ he thought as he drummed his fingers on the desk, _it's going to blow up and I know it's going to blow up but I can't stop it, I can only watch it happen._

How about some optimism there, partner? Maybe it won't blow up; maybe it'll land safely in Luna's loving arms and you'll live happily ever after like a royal couple in a Disney movie.

Yeah, and maybe I'll win the lottery without playing. It's possible, but is it _likely?_

 _Never know until you try._

Lincoln tapped his fingers harder. _Is it worth it?_

Is it worth _what?_ Losing Luna forever? No. But do you _really_ think that would happen? Imagine it was you. You're lying in bed and reading a comic when Lisa comes in.

 _A moment, please?_

 _Sure, Lise, what's up?_

 _Lincoln...I have observed a strange and unsettling phenomena in my cardiac organ as of late accompanied by gastrointestinal distress, sleeplessness, and a general breakdown in my mental faculties, all of which are exacerbated by your presence._

 _Uh...you're allergic to me, then?_

 _No, Lincoln; I'm in love with you._

Okay, first of all, his chin would hit his chest and his eyes would probably bug out of his head. Second...yeah, it would be kind of awkward and he'd be _really_ uncomfortable; blushing, rubbing the back of his neck, stammering, the whole nine yards. But he couldn't _hate_ his little sister. Jesus. He'd love her even if she was...like...he didn't know...a Nazi or something. He might...kind of...avoid her...maybe...but knowing how it feels, he wouldn't keep it up long. He'd talk to her or something.

Would Luna react the way he imagined he would? It was likely, since they had similar personalities, but she might not.

 _Ugh, I'm so sick of thinking about this!_

It was literally the same thing day in and day out, minute after minute, hour after hour. It was enough to make you sick.

And the worst part was, the moment he cast his mind in a different direction, it would begin to slowly and inexorably drift back until he was thinking about it again and not even realizing it; would she this, what if that?

She probably wouldn't hate him, though. Things might be awkward for a little while, but she was his big sister, she couldn't hold a grudge forever, and it's not like he broke her guitar or anything, he just...felt a certain way. You can't help how you feel, right? If he told her in the right way, maybe he couldn't soften the blow and minimize any resultant awkwardness.

Yeah, that might work. He was good with words when he sat down and really put his mind to it...if he worked _really_ hard, he might be able to end his confession with a hug instead of a disgusted _What the fuck, bro?_

Grinning to himself, he took out a sheet of paper and started to write.

* * *

Royal County High sits across a busy two lane highway from Royal County Middle. Every day, Luna would cross the street, wait for Lynn and Luan, then they would walk home together...except for days like today, when Lynn had practice, then it was just Luan and Luna. When the final bell rang, Luna grabbed her books, went to her locker, and shoved them in. She was outside and crossing the street. She was waiting by the front doors for Luan. She did not remember walking through the doors or descending the steps or even waiting for the pedlight at the crosswalk.

It had been this way all day; she would be so deep in thought that an entire class would flash by in what felt like ten minutes, and she would come out of her daze to find herself sitting in her next class with no memory of how she got there. It was really freaky, but nice too, because in her thoughts Lincoln was with her, and she was happy.

Standing against a brick wall and watching middle schoolers stream out of the building, however, she was _not_ happy. She was sad.

The more she thought about it, the more certain she became that Lincoln didn't really love her. He was perfect in every way imaginable. He was handsome, he was a good person...he was a real gem, and the idea of _him_ being in love with her was...she just couldn't buy it. Would the universe really smile upon her and give her the best it had to offer? Pfft, no.

She wasn't that lucky.

Something smacked her arm, and she jumped.

"There she is," Luan said. "I thought you went deaf."

"Huh?"

Luan giggled. "I've been talking to you for, like, two minutes. You just stared into space. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Luna said, pushing away from the wall, "I'm fine. Just...a lot on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Luan asked. They were walking toward Fifth Street, which would take them to Jointer Avenue. Their street was off Jointer two blocks past the firehouse.

"Not really," Luna sighed. She scratched her head. "It's nothing that talking about can really help anyway."

They crossed Fifth and started up the sidewalk.

"Talking helps _everything_ ," Luan said. "And so do jokes. You wanna hear a joke? I have a new one that'll knock your socks off."

"I'm not really in the mood for jokes," Luna said.

For a while they walked in silence, the atmosphere heavy between them. At Jointer, they waited for a line of cars to pass before hurrying across. Luna's eyes drifted to the arcade on the corner where Lincoln hung out, and her heart twinged with loss.

"There's a boy," Luna said, staring straight ahead even when Luan glanced at her. "He's...he's younger and we're pretty tight." Luna's heart was racing and her cheeks were burning red. She was _not_ used to talking about this sort of thing. "And, uh...we were hanging out and he got a little drunk." She grinned at the memory of Lincoln at the concert. "He...he said he loved me."

Luna glanced at Luan to gauge her reaction; the younger girl nodded. "And?"

"He said 'She's pretty and down-to-earth and kind and gentle' and "She's perfect. A girl like her only comes around once in a lifetime.'" Luna broke out in a wide smile despite herself. She turned to look at Luan, whose brow softened.

"Aww...he really said that?"

Luna nodded. "Yeah. And it made me really happy. I wasn't...I wasn't in love with him before that, but I don't know, maybe there was something there before." She laughed harshly. "I'm so confused. But since he said that...I'm head over heels."

"It sounds like he really likes you," Luan said seriously. She smiled. "And he sounds really sweet. You should snap him up."

Luna sighed. "That's the problem...he was drunk, I don't know if he meant it."

Luan took a deep breath. "Well...I've never been drunk, so I don't know what it's like firsthand, but there's a saying I read online." She looked up at the sky and squinted as she tried to recall it. "'A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.' They say the truth comes out when you're drunk. I don't know if it does or not, but I can see how it could...you know...loosen things up." She looked at Luna, who wore a thoughtful expression. "He probably _does_ mean it."

Luna's heartbeat quickened as she let Luan's words sink in. She herself had only been drunk once...and she blacked out and couldn't remember a thing (so much for being a total rock star, sigh). She _did_ recall feeling...loose.

"But what if he doesn't and me coming onto him ruins our friendship? I really...he's important to me even outside of being in love, you know?"

"Well," Luan said, "I'll ask you the same question I asked Linc: Is he worth it?"

"Wort- wait, Lincoln?"

"Yeah," Luan said casually, "he's really into an older girl and he's got the same worries as you. You know, ruining his friendship with her."

Luna's heart skipped a beat...or two and a knot formed in her stomach. _Older girl...same worries_.

 _I'm_ an older girl!

And...the same worries...does that mean...?

"Uh...you okay, Lune?" Luan asked. Luna was smiling ear-to-ear.

"I'm radical," she said, and drew her sister into a one-armed hug. "You give pretty rockin' advice. You should ditch the comedy routine and be Dear Abby or something."

"Thank you," Luan croaked, "can I breathe now, please?"

"Oh, sorry," Luna said, and released her. "Thanks again."

With that, she rushed ahead, leaving Luan in her dust.

"I have a strange family," she mused aloud, then shrugged. "At least Leni isn't a yandere with a thing for Lincoln...and Lincoln isn't a complete jerk working with Lucy to blow people up for incredibly minor reasons."

Thank God _those_ things never happened. Talk about dark and depressing!

* * *

Most days, Lincoln walked home with Lucy. Mom didn't like Lisa, Lola, and Lana walking, so they took the bus. Lucy didn't like the bus. It was too crowded with "mortals" and they got on Lucy's nerves. *Eye roll* Mom wasn't too keen on Lucy walking (even though the elementary school was less than a mile and a half from home), but "If Lincoln walks with you, I guess it's okay." Alright, no problem, we're going from the same place _to_ the same place...we'd walk together anyway.

Except Lincoln forgot to take one thing into account: The Young Morticians Club, Lucy's little after school gathering of weirdos every Monday and Thursday; it was either wait for her or hope Lori or Mom would pick her up...and more often than not, Lincoln wound up waiting. Today, he sat on a bench outside Room 237 and rubbed his knees because his phone was dead and he did his homework in study hall, so he had absolutely nothing to do except fiddle and mediate on how creepy the school was after hours: The hall was completely empty and silent. The only other soul he had seen since Lucy went in was the janitor, and that was from the corner of his eye, so Lincoln thought he was a ghost or a serial killer (maybe a serial killing ghost, even), and that freaked him out all the more.

As he waited, he pulled out the note he had written earlier and read it over, not entirely happy with it but unsure of what could make it better.

He sighed.

It would have to do.

He folded it and shoved it into his pocket. Come on, Luce, hurry up. He twiddled his thumbs and bobbed his head from side-to-side. The clock on the wall went _tick-tick-tick,_ and from somewhere deep in the bowels of the building, a vacuum cleaner kicked on. Ugh. He got up and went to the door, peering in though one of the narrow little windows along the frame.

A white face and big eyes greeted him: He screamed and jumped back, his arms flailing. The door opened, and Lucy's friend Haiku stuck her head out. "What are you doing, Lincoln?"

"You guys almost done?" Lincoln asked, patting the spot above his racing heart.

"Yes," she said simply.

For a moment they looked at each other. "Uh...do you have actual dead bodies in there?" Lincoln asked when the stare down became too uncomfortable.

"No," she sighed, "the school won't provide the funding. Apparently jock straps and baseball bats take precedence. Funny, considering the fact that everyone will require the services of a mortician at some point...but who's going to require the services of a washed-up, peaked-in-elementary-school football player?"

"Uh...not many...I guess."

"Not many," she agreed. "May I go to the bathroom now?"

Lincoln gestured down the hall. "Be my guest."

"Thank you."

While she went to the bathroom, Lincoln returned to his bench and sat, crossing his legs. When should he tell Luna? Tonight?

His stomach rolled anxiously. Uh...so soon, Linc? Why not put it off for a while, huh? No need to rush...she isn't going anywhere.

 _That's quitter talk, Loud!_

Uh...Lynn? What are _you_ doing here?

 _Never mind that! You're nervous, aren't you?_

No, not at all.

 _Don't be a smartass! You're nervous and you're scared, oh well. Get over it and power through._

Okay, but –

 _Not buts. Suck it up and be a man!_

But I'm –

 _You're right, you're a little boy...a weak, white-haired little boy with limp arms and no guts._

Hey, hold on...

 _You're a wimp. Luna would_ never _go for a little bitch like you._

Lynn, you need to knock it off.

 _You got no chance in hell, Linc. Hehhehhehhehheh. I guarantee you don't. Wimp. Loser._

Lincoln was starting to get angry. You think so?

 _I_ know _so._

I'll show you, I'll tell Luna tonight. How about _that?_

Lynn didn't answer.

That's what I thought, Lynn; you'll see. You're going to eat those words, then have a big slice of humble pie for dessert.

"Hey, Linc."

Lincoln jumped.

Lucy was standing in front of him. When did _you_ get here?

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Lincoln nodded. "Yes," he said with a smile, "I _am_."

* * *

Luna got home ten minutes after leaving Luan; her face was red and her lungs burst. She didn't exactly run...it was more of a fast walk...a _really_ fast walk...a running walk...okay, she ran, but she was excited because the chances that Lincoln loved her too were astronomical right now, and she wanted to talk to him before the warm, fuzzy glow in her soul dimmed and she went back to doubting him. A small, rational part of her told her to hold off...that Lincoln's "older girl" might be someone else and not her. Fair enough...but she was too happy to hear that right now.

She must have come through the door a little more vigorously than she meant to, because Lori and Leni, who were both sitting on the couch, looked at her with bemused expressions. "You alright, Luna?" Lori asked.

"Never better," she said. "Is Lincoln here?"

"Nope," Lori said, turning back to the TV. "He's babysitting Lucy at her weird little Ed Gein meeting."

Luna's shoulders sagged. That's right, today was Monday. Disappointment washed through her, and she bowed her head.

"Uh, he should, like, be home soon," Leni offered.

"Like an hour," Lori said absently.

An hour? That was like a decade in love years! Luna sighed and scuffed her foot. She started up the stairs, but then it hit her: Why not go to him _now?_

She smiled, spun, and marched right back out the door.

"She's acting strange," Lori said.

"Totes strange," Leni agreed.

"Our whole family is strange."

"Yeah," Leni said, "but at least Mom's not obsessed with Lincoln and killing everyone because she thinks they're going to take him away from her, and at least Luan isn't trying super hard to seduce Lincoln by, like, changing her shirt in front of him and stuff."

Lori looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. "And you're the strangest of them all."


	8. Love Bomb

Shadows grew long as Lincoln and Lucy followed Railroad Avenue to Jointer Avenue. It had been unseasonably warm for late September, but now, as the sky cooled from molten orange to chilly purple, the temperature was coming down and it was _almost_ uncomfortable.

"I like fall," Lucy said flatly. They were side-by-side, Lincoln doing everything in his power not to outpace her: He was a faster walker, especially when he was lost in thought like he was now, and Lucy walked like a vampire in an old movie...slowly...deliberately...in no hurry because it knows it has all the time immortality can give it and that it will eventually get what it wants.

"It's nice," he said absently, "the leaves are pretty."

"I like how it gets dark earlier."

"Of course you do."

"I wish it stayed dark all the time."

"It would if you were blind."

Lucy looked at him, her face impassive. "You're right." She stuck her thumbs through the hair veiling her face.

" _No! Stop!"_ Lincoln yelled, grabbing her arm.

"Calm down, Lincoln," she said, "I was joking."

Lincoln took a deep breath, suddenly feeling stupid. Of course she was joking. "I'm not used to humor from you," he said.

She shrugged. "It happens...every once in a while."

"Warn me next time," he said, his thoughts already drifting back to Luna; he didn't hear her reply, if she made one at all. Alright, Linc, prove Fake-Subconscious-Lynn wrong: Go in there and tell Luna how you feel. Not in front of everyone else, of course.

"Linc!"

Ah. Her voice was so sweet; his name never sounded better than when it came from her lips.

"Luce!"

It was like he could hear her now.

"Lincoln."

Lucy too.

"Lincoln!"

Lincoln came to a grinding halt. Lucy was no longer beside him, and he panicked. _She was being kidnapped!_ He whipped around, his heart blasting into his throat, but she was fine, standing a couple feet back.

"What?"

"Something Luna this way comes," she said cryptically.

Huh?

"Hey, bro!" a voice said from right behind him, and he spun.

It was Luna. Lincoln's breath caught and his heart staggered and went down to its knees. Her face was glowing, her eyes were shining, and her smile was radiant. She looked like a lamp. Well, glowing like one, not that she looked like an actual lamp. She was much, much prettier.

"H-Hey, Luna...what're you doing here?"

She shrugged. "I was coming to walk you guys home. It's getting late."

As if on cue, the streetlamps along the sidewalk began to flicker on.

"See?" she said with a drawing grin. "Come on...before The Bogeyman gets us."

"I'd like to meet The Bogeyman," Lucy said, and Luna and Lincoln both jumped; they had forgotten she was there.

"Not me, man," Luna said. "Let's go."

They walked three abreast along the sidewalk, Lincoln in the middle, his heart throbbing and his stomach sick; the prospect of actually professing his love for her ran farther and farther away with every step they took.

 _Hehhehheh, told ya!_

Shut up, Lynn; I'm going to do it.

 _Nuh-uh._

Yeah-huh.

 _Then do it._

Not right now!

 _When you get home, then._

Before dinner? This is something that shouldn't have a time limit, I should –

 _Bwok-bwok-bwok._

Okay!

A warm hand rested upon his shoulder, and he started. Luna was looking down at him with half-lidded eyes. "How was your day, bro?" she asked, squeezing.

"Uh, g-good," he stammered, speaking more loudly than he had to; she had to hear him over the sound of his crashing heartbeat, after all. "Yours?"

"Good," she said, and mussed his hair. "It's been a good day."

"G-Good. I'm glad to hear that."

She smiled, and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Aren't you going to ask how _my_ day was?" Lucy asked from next to Lincoln.

Luna looked up at her sister. "And how was your day, Luce?"

"Dark and depressing."

"Oh, I'm sor –"

"It was awesome."

Luna laughed, and Lincoln laughed too. It _was_ kind of funny, but mainly he was laughing because Luna's laugh was so beautiful.

Five minutes later, they reached their own front porch. Luna's hand lingered on his shoulder, then she slowly drew it away, her fingers grazing lightly and making him shiver.

Then she caressed his cheek, and he seized up, his heart coming to a complete screeching halt and his mind blanking. He felt the way Clyde must feel when he was around Lori...minus the weird bloody nose thing. Seriously, what was with that? It was creepy as hell.

Lincoln somehow got to his room, though he didn't remember how; he suddenly came to himself sitting on the edge of his bed. What time was it? He glanced at the clock. 5:15. Dinner wouldn't be for another hour. That would be enough time for him to...talk to Luna. Right?

He swallowed and got up, crossing to the door and poking his head out. Lola chased Lana into their room with a maniacal expression on her face; Lisa was standing over a smoking hole in the floor, her hands on her hips and her head shaking sadly back and forth; Lynn dodged out of her room, turned, jumped, caught an imaginary ball...then tumbled down the stairs with a sharp cry ("I'm okay," she moaned); Luan was following Lucy down the hall with Mr. Coconuts and throwing her voice. "So, what's Transylvania like, Count? Suck any good necks lately? Why couldn't Dracula's wife get to sleep? His coffin kept her awake." Lucy simply ignored her and went down the stairs, Luan right behind her.

In other words: Monday night.

Lincoln took a deep breath and reigned in his runaway heart. Alright, moment of truth, Loud. Man up, grow a spine...

He nodded determinedly.

But his feet wouldn't leave the ground.

Come on, Linc. Do it.

But I'm scared.

So?

What if I push her away?

That won't happen.

Are you sure?

Yep.

Are you _sure_ you're sure?

Yes, Lincoln, I'm sure, now go get her.

Sigh. Alright, Lincoln, you know best.

Darn right I do, Lincoln.

He took another deep breath...then went into the hall, his feet heavy as blocks of lead. Luna's door was open, so at least he wouldn't have to lift an arm to knock. He drew closer...and bumped literally into Luna as she came out.

"Sorry, bro," she said and smiled nervously, her face turning red. "I was actually just coming to see you."

Lincoln blinked. "I-I was just coming to see _you_."

"You were?" she asked, her eyes flickering with anxiety.

"Yeah."

For a moment, they awkwardly faced each other. "Uh...c-come in, I guess," she said.

Lincoln nodded and slipped into the room. Luna shut the door behind her. "So," she said as she passed and dropped onto the edge of the bed. "What did you, uh, wanna talk about?"

Icy claws of apprehension dug into the soft lining of his stomach. His face felt hot and his knees felt shaky. The air rushed out of the room and he couldn't bring himself to look at her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper. He unfolded it with trembling fingers and coughed as his eyes scanned the lines scrawled thereon. It wasn't good enough. He made a terrible mistake.

Too late to back out now. Come hell or high water, he was going to tell Luna how he felt.

"Luna," he started, "you are...the most amazing person I know. You're a great sister. You're down-to-earth and kind and gentle."

He didn't hear Luna's breath hitch, and he didn't see the rising light in her eyes; he couldn't look up from the paper if he wanted to.

"I love everything about you...I'm...I'm in love with you." Here he started to talk faster. "I know it's wrong to feel that way about your sister and I will understand if you do not feel the same way. In fact, I don't expect you to. You are the most important person in the world to me, and I can't help that. I can't help loving you. It's not a choice I woke up and made one morning. My heart – my spirit – is drawn to you, and always has been. I've wanted to tell you this for a long time, but I was afraid that you would react poorly...I was afraid that you would hate me and think I'm a pervert. I still am. I'm scared right this second, but I have to get this off my chest, and I have to tell you: I love you, I love everything about you. I hope you don't hate me. It might take you a while to adjust to this, and I will respect your wishes if you don't want me around for a while. Just please find it in your heart to eventually forgive me and to keep on loving me as a sister. I couldn't survive without you in my life in some way, shape, or form."

His eyes lingered on the last word, only blank, white space after it. He was petrified to look up and into Luna's eyes, petrified of what he might see...or what he might _not_ see. He couldn't stare at his own blocky, childish writing forever, though. He had to face this. Like a man. He took a deep breath and looked up.

Tears were streaming down Luna's cheeks, but she was smiling so wide it looked like her face was going to crack. Lincoln was confused.

She held out an arm. "Come here," he said, her voice thick.

Lincoln swallowed and went to her, sitting next to her. "I know this is –"

She cut him off by touching his chin, turning his face to hers, and kissing him, her soft, warm lips pressing needily against his own. He went rigid, then melted into her; her tongue parted his lips and they kissed slowly, deeply, curiously and clumsily exploring each other's mouths, his hand caressing her wet cheek and her hands clutching desperately at the front of his shirt.

When the kiss broke, they both drew back and regarded the other with wide, glimmering eyes. Luna was the first to speak, her hand reaching up and her fingers stroking the crown of his head as she did. "So you _did_ mean it." She smiled.

"Mean what?"

"What you said the night you got drunk."

Lincoln's brow furrowed. "What did I say?"

Her smile widened and she giggled. "You thought I was someone else and you said I reminded you of your sister Luna, that you were in love with her, and not to tell." She laughed richly. "You said 'She's pretty and down-to-earth and kind and gentle. It's wrong, but I don't care. She's perfect. A girl like her only comes around once in a lifetime.'" As she spoke, more tears leaked from her eyes. "You really meant that?"

"I did," Lincoln said earnestly. "I meant every single word. You _are_ perfect, I _do_ love you, and a girl like you _does_ only come around once in a lifetime...if that."

She giggled through her tears and caressed his cheek. "I love you too, Lincoln. You're sweet, kind, caring, compassionate, chill, handsome, smart, loving, and everything else. You're perfect and I love you so much."

They kissed again, slower this time, more passionately, their tongues moving in sweet rhythm and their hearts beating to the same tempo. It was a declaration more than it was a kiss...a simple three word vow from one heart to another.

 _I love you._

* * *

 **Author's Note: Each of the chapter titles was named after an AC/DC song. They are as follows:**

 _ **There's Gonna Be Some Rockin' (At The Show Tonight)**_ **from the album** _ **Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap**_ **(1976)**

 _ **You Ain't Got a Hold On Me**_ **from the album** _ **High Voltage**_ **(Australian release only – 1975)**

 _ **Ruff Stuff**_ **from the album** _ **Blow Up Your Video**_ **(1988)**

 _ **Beating Around the Bush**_ **from the album** _ **Highway to Hell**_ **(1979)**

 _ **Play Ball**_ **from the album** _ **Rock or Bust**_ **(2014)**

 _ **Up To My Neck In You**_ **from the album** _ **Powerage**_ **(1978)**

 _ **Are You Ready?**_ **from the album** _ **The Razor's Edge**_ **(1990)**

 _ **Love Bomb**_ **from the album** _ **Ballbreaker**_ **(1995)**


End file.
